Rose tinted view...and satellites that compromise the truth.

I have decided. My project for myself over the winter break is going to be to draw this:

I realize that it's probably going to be a lot harder than it looks, but I think I can do it. It's the black patches that are going to kill me. I was considering drawing it on just black paper, but, the shading areas in some parts look kind of difficult if it was on black paper. So, I've made my decision.

Unfortunately, I have to do my art sketch for school and I still don't know what I'm going to draw. I'm thinking I'm just going to draw my tea mug.

...Well, I just decided what I was going to draw two times! Today has been a lot more productive than I initially thought it would be.

I'm trying to prove to my parents that I'm healthy enough to go to the dress rehearsal at my school at seven tonight. It's a while away, I know that much. I want to go because I want to play my violin. I haven't played it today and for some reason that irritates me a lot more than it should.  Part of me just wants to go to see who is performing in the chorus. Part of me just wants to go to get out of the house. Part of me wants to go just to see my friends that I missed at lunch. I owe Tracy a double third finger dance. 

Let's face it. I didn't do anything today, so, there isn't much to report today. I'm pleased with myself. I managed to keep this blog up and running for a lot longer that I thought I would. Always a plus.

Day 14: Your Earliest Memory

I remember I knew exactly what my earliest memory was yesterday and now I can't remember it for the life of me. I can entertain you with a story of what I did when I was a child.

ACTUALLY! No! I remember it now! It's so insignificant, but so significant at the same time.

I don't remember how old I was but I remember vividly going upstairs to the kitchen from the den. I saw my Ye Ye sitting at the table facing the fridge and my Ma Ma was cooking something at the stove. I couldn't smell it from my position on the stairs so far, but, once I hit the second stair from the top, I knew exactly what it was. 

It was fish. Again. I went downstairs and groaned. Since then, I can't really eat fish anymore. For three years (Oh snap, I was three), I had fish for dinner every night. Now I can't eat fish without being repulsed. I'm trying to make myself like fish again. It seems like a lost cause.